Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Surrender your thumb
Today I was woken up by jackhammers. I tried to reclaim my sleep but the noise was like a machine gun and I could feel the vibration in my teeth. The t-house I sleep in rests among many citrus trees: orange, tangerine, blood orange. There's also some peach trees and fig trees. What finally led me out of my bed, though, was the voices of a woman and a man. The woman was oohing and ahhing about how delicious the blood orange was. The man gives in to her temptation and agrees with her oohs. "Lets try the tangerine. Ughh the tangerine is terrible." I hear her say. By the time I zip open the canvas and step out of the t-house, the man and woman are gone. I still do not know who they were...
As I begin my yoga/tai chi practice I receive a call from Bill. "Do you want to help me get the Volvo to the auto body shop?"
"Sure, give me a call when you are ready."
"OK, it'll be 30 minutes."
My practice takes over an hour but I know that Bill's 30 minutes equates to 90 minutes real time. Sure enough, I finish the exercises, hop in the shower and as I am putting on some fresh clothes: the phone rings. "Meet me at the guesthouse in a couple mintues." Bill says.
We take off out of the estate, Bill in his new blue Cross Country Vovo and me in the now old (only 65,000 miles though) brown Cross Country Volvo. First we have to stop at the new bank in town. Then we are gone, west on 33 and then south on 101. It's always interesting following Bill. It seems like he's trying to lose me but it doesn't happen. I imagine us racing in the Indy 500: no contest, I'd win that race. He seems distracted and we get off on the wrong exit twice. When we make it there he's like: "My blood sugar's off or something. I don't know how you go without eating? How do you do it?"
Driving back up 101, Bill has me open a notebook, grab a pen and begin taking down the work order which will end up having 22 tasks for me to take care of for the upcoming house rental.
After we return home, after I have eaten an amazing lunch prepared by Eliza, after helping her with some food prep for her todays catering gig, I begin to take care of some of the work on the list. Its all easy stuff: moving beds, cleaning the outside of a yurt, fixing a fan, measuring a doorway...
I decide to stop at 6:15. Devin and I will meet to play tennis at 7:15. This gives me time to make a blueberry smoothie and then watch Will play the Revenge of the Sith video game. He just loves video games. He lives for them. This game is amazing and the graphics are the bomb. I spot Devin by his truck.
We leave the land in Devin's truck, ease down the hill, slip thru back roads, cut thru the traffic of main street and then pull into the parking lot for the lower tennis courts of Libby Park. We warm up for at least 30 minutes. I feel loose. My forehand feels more natural than it has in quite a while, serve is ripping, net game is on, backhand is backing Dev up. We begin with me seriving. I am up 40-5 and then I hit a winner that Devin lunges for, trips and falls. He rolls on his back and is holding his thumb. "Why is this happening? Why is this happening?" He says with a powerful whisper.
I drive Devin in his white natural gas powered truck to the hospital. When we arrive it seems mellow. Just as the nurse begins to ask the preliminary questions, the phone rings off the hook. Five phone conversations later, she places her attention on Dev. Who knows how long this will take. Dev suggests I go get some dinner and I agree. While eating at Rainbow Bridge, Dev calls me from a hospital phone: "Get me out of here" he says in a whisper. Turns out he'll be there another hour; asks me to get him some food from his studio.
Back at the hospital, the floresent lights are bright and false. Almost all of the nurses and doctors I see seem unhealthy, overweight, sallow complexions. It can't be good for you to be under these lights all day with all of these sick people around. I chance upon Devin waiting for the results of his x-ray. I hand him his meal and a book; he expresses much grattitude towards me for helping out. "Didj Nightingale" I say.
Soon enough, the doctor arrives and they both stare at the x-ray picture of Devin's damaged thumb. The doctor uses a pen to show where there is a small crack on a small bone. There is a fracture and a couple small pieces of bone. He will need a hand specialist. The doctor refers Dev to another hospital that can refer him to a specialist. This means that devin will go wait in line at the county emergency room. This will expedite the time it takes for him gain an appointment. Otherwise it might take 3 weeks. Dev takes it all surprisingly well.
While walking back to his truck, he thanks me again for sticking with him and helping out. "You are a good friend." He says.
"I'm impressed by how well you handled all that. That stuff drives me crazy. You have to go to another emergency room. That's crazy."
Dev: "At this point, I just surrender to what ever is going to happen."
posted by Mike Didj at 11:11 PM 0 waves
Monday, May 30, 2005